


Thank You

by fandomtrash1224



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Harry, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrash1224/pseuds/fandomtrash1224
Summary: If you had asked Harry at the beginning of 5th year if he was going to survive everything. Harry would have looked you dead in the eye and said no. He was so far gone. He knew it, but no one else really noticed. No one except for Ruffles.orHarry is in a bad place, a mysterious pen pale helps him out.





	Thank You

If you had asked Harry at the beginning of 5th year if he was going to survive everything. Harry would have looked you dead in the eye and said no. He was so far gone. He knew it, but no one else really noticed. No one except for Ruffles. 

Cedric had just died and everything was going wrong for the boy who lived. Hermione and Ron had become prefects, and that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the fact that they were no longer there for him whenever he needed. 

He was cutting himself at any place possible. Hips, thighs, wrists, even his shoulders, just to convert all the mental pain he had and change it into physical, because Merlin, he’d rather be hit with a fucking hammer than have to feel how he did before cutting.

Yes, cutting was a horrible habit. It would leave scars for probably the rest of his life, but it was a temporary fix to his painful problem.

When he got to Hogwarts, things didn’t get better, no one noticed how he was in pain, and on top of it all, a new DADA teacher named Umbridge seemed to hate Harry so much for no particular reason besides the fact he was who he was and he saw Voldemort come back. Trust him. He wasn’t exactly elated about that either, Toad. 

So, to say the beginning of his year was shit would be an understatement. He was ready to end it all. Everything he loved, everything that brought him joy was being ripped from his hands, cutting was no longer helping. He was casting silencing charms on his bed as his body was shaking from sobbing, blood dripping from various cuts on his body.

No one noticed. Not until one day, he got a letter. It was signed with a pen name. Ruffles. This has intrigued Harry to say the least, so pushing away his uneaten breakfast, he opened the letter that was beautifully written with smooth handwriting and began to read.

 

Dear, Harry.

This letter may come across as creepy, but please know, I have not intended it to sound that way in the slightest.

I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way, but little things I’ve noticed, like how you only drink Pumpkin Juice, and you have a oddly large obsession with sweets, and that toast seems to be the only thing you ever eat for breakfast. Those little things, I don’t see you do them anymore.

Once I saw this, I started paying just a bit more attention. I noticed how you haven’t been eating at all really. I also noticed how I haven’t heard your laugh ringing in class or at meals. I noticed how you’re always tugging down your sleeves, and I know why, because I saw it when you were playing a Quidditch match. 

Don’t worry, I don’t think it was obvious, it was just because I had seen the little things that led me to believe you had harmed yourself. I don’t mean for this to sound weird, once again, but I care for you, and while I didn’t know how else to help you, I do want to help you.

So please. I know you don’t know me, well you do, but you don’t know how, or who I am, but please, try and stop. Talk to me if you must, do whatever you need, but can you try and hold on? If you ever left, I don’t know what I would do. 

So can you try and eat? Can you try? For me? For this person you don’t know, please try. Reply if you want, discard this letter and pretend it didn’t happen, but Merlin, please, please, please, try and get better.

If you choose to reply, I will hastily send a letter back.

With care, Ruffles.

 

Harry smiled at the letter. Someone wanted to help. His smile faded quickly knowing that the person who had written this letter was somewhere in the room. He looked around skeptically before carefully folding the letter, placing it in his bag, ripping off a small piece of toast and plopping it in his mouth.

~

That night, he wrote a letter, and then, nights later, he wrote another letter, after letter after letter. He explained everything. He told Ruffles about why he was sad, how no one noticed, why he cut. Granted, this wasn’t all in one night, it gradually went on for weeks, and then, they barely talked about his depression, because it was getting better.

Harry knew that if he ever needed to talk about it, Ruffles would have an open ear. Yet, Harry didn’t need too, he cut less, cried less, ate more, laughed more. Ruffles was truly brightening up his life.

He learned a lot about Ruffles. He learned Ruffles and their father never had the steadiest relationship, he learned that sometimes Ruffles wished they were in a different house, and that the little weird pen name came from a toy poodle they had since they were 7.

Time went on and whenever something went wrong, Ruffles was there for Harry. Of course, Harry was skeptical about the true intentions of the mysterious Ruffles, but after the holiday, he was sure his secrets were safe.

Then, after everything had cooled down about the attack on Mr. Weasley, Harry couldn’t deny the strange feelings he was developing for Ruffles. He knew what a crush felt like, he had one with Cho, but this was different. He felt as if he wanted to be with Ruffles, but he couldn’t.

So, he asked the mysterious pen pale if they would ever reveal himself.

Dear, Ruffles.

I’m just going to say it. I like you. It’s weird. I know it is. I don’t know if you’re a girl or a boy or somewhere inbetween. I don’t know if you’re a hufflepuff or fellow lion. Merlin, I don’t even know if you like guys. I just know, that for some strange reason, I can’t stop thinking about you.

I’ve made this persona of you, someone I picture you as, and I always want to feel it near me, and I find that in your letters. But the one thing better than a persona, would be you. I want to know who you are. No matter who you are, I want to know. I want to truly know you, Ruffles. 

I want to know every detail about you, even if you don’t think I do, I know I do. At this point, you could be Ron and I would still have this strange crush towards you. Though, I do highly doubt the feelings would in anyway be returned. 

Ron is very straight. He is also my best friend and that would be strange, but if you were him, I’d still fancy you. Because, Ruffles, I don’t just like the persona I’ve created. I like you. I fancy you. I care for you. I want you. I need you. Please.

With Care, Harry.

Harry passed for hours debating if he should actually send the letter. He didn’t want to ruin things between him and his new friend, someone who had saved his life, someone who had noticed.

Then, he remembered all the times he would look in the Dining Hall for the person who had helped him, and every time he was disappointed when he found no one staring back.

So, he sent the letter to Ruffles and hoped for the best.

~

The next morning at breakfast, Harry received a letter at the same time he always did, which, neither one of his friends seemed to notice, though Hermione sometimes would ask if Black sent another letter, to which Harry said no, and that was the end of that.

Dear, Harry.

Whilst I do sometimes want to tell you who I am, because these feelings that you claim to have, I have them. I’ve had them since fourth year. I know, pathetic. But, with this, telling you who I am is terrifying.

Maybe you don’t think it to be so, but for me, it is. I know, as soon as I tell you who I am, you will no longer talk to me. We have history, and not a particularly friendly one, so I can’t tell you, Harry, I’m sorry. There is a part of me that longs for you too know, but I just, can’t tell you. I am sorry.

I’m not Ron, if that’s any help. I’m actually not a Gryffindor. So, please do not hate me for keeping my identity a secret, but I just don’t think I could tell you at this time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought of it. Everyday almost I write a letter, rather it’s just my name, an initial, or a long paragraph explaining everything, but I always burn it. Please know, I want to tell you, I want to date you, I want to kiss you.

But. I can’t. 

I’m sorry, Ruffles.

When Harry received the letter, his heart broke, but he put on a face as he read it, just in case Ruffles could see his reaction. That night, Harry wrote back, saying he understood, he didn’t, but either way, he was still happy to talk to Ruffles.

Time went on and they talked. They talked about the toy poodle, and chocolate, and quidditch. He found out that Ruffles was a guy, so he built up his persona a bit more.

Eventually his friends did notice how much he had been talking to this person. They thought it was a girl, but he said it wasn’t, to which Hermione giggled.

“What?” Harry asked, hiding the note in his back.

“Oh nothing,” She smiled. “I just knew that no one else talked so much about their arch-enemy as you,”

“Merlin, Hermione, It’s not Malfoy,”

“See, that’s how I know it’s him, I would assume your arch-enemy would be V - uh Voldemort,” Hermione smiled, Ron winced. 

“W- what no! Merlin,” Harry said. And that was the end of that.

Everything was great. But then, Sirius died. Harry wrote to Ruffles. He told him how he didn’t want to live anymore, how it was just pointless. It wasn’t fair, Harry was tired of it all. Ruffles wrote back, like he always did.

Dear, Harry.

No. Please. I won’t be able to survive if you do this. Please, Please, Please, Please, I don’t know what to write but I need to get this too you soon. Please. Harry. Don’t. Please.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. 

Your mom, she died protecting, Harry don’t throw that away. Harry please. Please. Please. Please.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I know what those three words mean.

I’ve never loved somebody more.

I love you.

I love you.

I need you.

Keep fighting.

I love you. 

I love you.

I love you.

With love, Ruffles.

Harry couldn’t believe what he was reading. He began to cry. He pushed away his plate of food and ran into the bathrooms. He was half hoping that Ruffles came in with him. But no one followed. So, he held his knees close to him and cried. He cried about the mention of his mother and how he was throwing his life away, he cried about how Ruffles loved him, but then, at the same time, wouldn’t follow him in, and it was all confusing, and he also cried about Sirius.

Harry wrote back.

Dear, Ruffles.

I want to say it back. But I don’t know how. I don’t know you. 

I know, what my mother did. No need to remind me.

I need to know who you are.

Writing like this, not knowing who you are.

It’s killing me.

I can’t handle it.

My world is falling apart, and all writing is doing is jumbling up the pieces.

Please, Ruffles.

Please.  
-Harry.

The green-eyed boy sent the letter and walked to Potions class, where Draco Malfoy approached him alone.

“Are you okay?” He said quietly.

“Why do you care?” Harry spat. He wasn’t in the mood for Malfoy right now.

“You’ve been through a lot, are you okay?

“Fantastic,” Harry said, before shoving away from Malfoy and walking away from Potions. He would just skip today.

~

It was now the end of the year and Harry couldn’t be happier, but at the same time, he hated it, because he was going to have to talk with the Dursleys.

Harry climbed on the train and parted with Ron and Hermione. He sat down in an empty booth, playing with the long sleeves of his red jumper. He tore at the loose strands of yarn before he heard a conversation going on outside of his booth.

It was Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were putting up their bags and talking.

“So,” Came Parkinson’s nasal voice. “Ready to go see your little birdy?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not a bird, Pansy, get it right, it’s a dog, and quite an amazing one at that,”

“What did you name it again?” She laughed. “Puddle?”

Malfoy gave a sarcastic laugh. “Haha,” He said closing the baggage holder thing(a/n: you know what I am talking about, right?) “I was like, seven, when I named her, and it’s Ruffles thank you very much,”

Harry gave a small chuckle at how painful that sentence was, but then it hit him.

Fuck. 

Harry just sat there, eyes wide, as the Slytherin’s walked away into a booth. The rain began moving and people joined him, Ron stopping by, but Hermione stayed on patrol the whole time.

When the train stopped, Harry was still in shock. People began piling out of the booths, running off the train to go see their parents. Harry looked up, looking for a head of white-blonde hair. He began pushing through people as he made his way towards a group of Slytherin’s who were walking towards the other end of the train.

Haryy heard a lot of ‘moves’ and ‘what the hell’s’ but he didn’t care. He began pushing harder, trying to get to the Slytherin’s before they got off the train. He almost fell, but caught his balance and grabbed one of the Slytherin’s robes. 

It had seemed to be a second year. “Malfoy,” he said, barely audible between all the pants. “Where is Malfoy?”

The very confused Slytherin just pointed in a direction, and Harry say him. A tall blonde laughing with his friends. Harry pushed through the Slytherin’s, which was a lot more difficult than all the other houses. 

“YOU ASSHOLE!” Harry yelled. “You ASSHOLE!” 

At the sound of Harry’s yell, all the Slytherin’s stopped and turned at him. Draco’s eyes were wide.

“IT’S YOU!” That was all Harry had to say for Draco to walk his way through the other people in his house, now standing tall in the middle next to Harry. He seemed nervous, but kept on a face. “It was you,” Harry said a lot quieter. “The entire time, every time, I should have seen it,”

Draco placed his hand on Harry’s face, the younger boy looked up, “I love you,” Draco whispered. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you,”

“WHAT KIND OF FUCKING LOGIC IS THAT? I NEED YOU! I NEEDED PERSON YOU, I NEEDED SOMEONE TO TALK TO!”

“If you found out it was me, would you be as honest as you were?”

Harry went silent. 

“I love you,” Draco repeated. Harry looked up, angry and tears gathering in his eyes, but then he thought of everything Draco told him.

How his dad was abusive, how he hated being a Malfoy sometimes, how he didn’t really like being a Slytherin all the time, how he wished sometimes he could just turn everything off, and Harry got on the tips of his toes and kissed the slightly taller male.

The Slytherin’s cheered, they had all seen how the blonde was pining for the chosen one all fourth and fifth year, and were just glad to not have to see it anymore.

“You ass,” Harry whispered. “I love you,”


End file.
